


First Night

by Asher_Ephraim



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage, No Aftercare, Obsessive Behavior, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Destruction, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/pseuds/Asher_Ephraim
Summary: "Grand Marshal Armitage Huxannounces his engagement toLieutenant Dopheld Mitakaceremony to be held in Finalizer State Roomreception to follow"Supreme Leader Ren develops an obsession. He makes demands. Everything falls apart.





	1. Demand

**Author's Note:**

> Please, for the love of all that is holy, heed the tags.

_Grand Marshal Armitage Hux_

_announces his engagement to_

_Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka_

_ceremony to be held in Finalizer State Room_

_reception to follow_

The invitations are printed on actual paper, tree pulp from the forests of Lothal, bleached to a dazzling white and embossed with black lettering. It’s an anachronism in this day and age, but both participants had agreed there was a certain flair to physical invitations hand-delivered by courier to each of their guests.

After the destruction of Starkiller and the defeat at Crait, the Order can do with a bit of pomp and a state wedding will give everyone an excuse to let loose and celebrate a little.

The invites have all reached their intended recipients and Hux is standing at parade rest in the Supreme Leader’s throne room, discussing the allocation of funds towards ramping up the production of a replacement for the _Supremacy_ , but his thoughts continue to drift to the alterations he ordered to his dress uniform.

“Grand Marshal,” Ren intones, his voice deep and ominous, and Hux snaps his mind back to attention.

“Yes, Supreme Leader?” The title still rankles in the pit of his stomach, but he has become accustomed to coping with the discomfort. His own elevation in status has helped.

“Congratulations. On your upcoming wedding.”

“Thank you, Lord Ren.” Dismissed and startled, he takes his leave.

 

Hearing about Hux’s engagement makes Ren take notice of Mitaka. Suddenly he is keenly aware of the lieutenant’s presence when before the young officer had been just one of many. It doesn’t take long for him to appraise Mitaka physically and decide that the man is attractive. Besides, knowing he’s gay—and Hux’s—adds to the allure.

One late night, about four weeks before the scheduled nuptials, Ren finds himself in his oversized ceramic bath tub with one hand around his dick and Dopheld Mitaka on his mind.

He needs to know more. Needs to have more, if only for his own very private amusement.

Reaching out through the Force, he looks into the Grand Marshal’s quarters to peer into the sleeping lieutenant’s mind. Mitaka prefers to bottom, although on occasion he does top Hux. Ren has never bottomed in his life, has no real interest in it, so this knowledge fits nicely into his fantasies.

He likes to believe that Mitaka is just as subservient in bed as he is on the bridge. The sort of man who calls his lovers “sir” and begs permission to come. The sort of man Ren loves to fuck.

Speeding up his hand, he brings himself to completion, arching into one last pump of his fist. After the peak of pleasure dissolves, when he towels himself off, he is still enveloped by the wanting.

 

During Ren’s meditation the next night, he expands his awareness. He plots all the _Finalizer_ ’s bright points of consciousness on a mental map. Peavey is doing paperwork, sitting at his desk and fighting boredom. Opan paces in front of the starport at the aft of the ship, cataloguing the people who will need to die for their cause to succeed.

Across the hallway in their shared quarters, Hux and Mitaka are fucking. The lieutenant is on his back, looking up at the Grand Marshal.

There’s a great deal of kissing and not enough panting and thrusting for Ren’s tastes. He supposes this is what people would refer to as “lovemaking.” Brazenly he dips into Mitaka’s mind, the first time he has done so while the man is awake.

 _Yes. But—harder, please._ He places a palm on Hux’s chest, just over his heart.

“I can’t wait to call you my husband,” Hux declares before leaning over for yet another kiss.

“Oh,” Mitaka breathes as Hux’s change in position brings him deeper inside. “Oh, fuck. Armitage.”

“You feel like heaven.”

Mitaka reaches down and squeezes his own cock tightly. “Fuck me faster.”

Perhaps Ren is reading into the situation, but he can’t help but sense that Mitaka would prefer Hux to be not only quicker, but rougher.

Smiling, Hux answers, “Mm, but I don’t want to rush things.”

“Then pace yourself.”

Hux braces himself with palms flat on either side of Dopheld’s head and cants into him quickly. Mitaka sees stars.

“Yes, yes—” Silently, he adds, _“Sir.”_

It’s interesting.

 

Ren thinks too much, as he always has. Hux doesn’t give him credit for that, thinks the Supreme Leader is rash and impetuous. But what the Grand Marshal doesn’t understand is that Kylo Ren cannot turn his brain off. It won’t let him rest with all its conflicting signals, its tumult of need and worry. He’d hoped that reaching this station would make things easier.

It hasn’t.

He still feels like an overgrown boy, yearning to prove himself. Every day he stands on the bridge, he wants to shout across it: _I belong here! I earned this as much as any of you!_

He trained for years, first as an awkward padawan under Skywalker, then secretly as Snoke’s Jedi-killer. Now he has overthrown his Master and by all accounts, he has everything, and yet…

He is alone. He is all alone and everyone doubts him. Hux is no longer actively plotting against him, but the former general is simply biding his time. Besides, Hux has Mitaka to distract him. Ren has no distractions.

 

Two weeks before the wedding, Ren summons Hux to ostensibly berate him for requesting even more funds for the new _Supremacy._ Honestly, he doesn’t care about the money. High Command will sign off on it and it will be their problem to find what they need.

After a half-hearted dress-down, Ren goes silent for a quarter of a minute before saying, “Your… fiance. The lieutenant.”

Hux keeps his tone guardedly neutral when he answers, “Yes, My Lord.”

“He’s pretty.”

“Ah. Thank you, Lord Ren?”

The knight overhears the question Hux hasn’t asked: _Why are you mentioning this?_ He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and announces, “I’m considering introducing the practice of First Night.”

Heart beating in his throat, fingers clenching into fists, Hux’s already pale face blanches further. “Supreme Leader?”

“Are you familiar with the term, Grand Marshal?”

The redhead’s throat works as he swallows dryly. “I… I am. My Lord.”

“Because your lieutenant is quite lovely.”

“Lord Ren, you can’t _possibly_ intend to revive an ancient and backwards custom intended to instill fear in vassals—” _Oh._   _Perhaps that_ _’s the point._

Drumming his fingers against the side of the throne, Ren muses, “Besides, it’s not like it would actually be your first night together. Neither of you is a blushing virgin.”

Hux persists in protesting. “Not as such, Supreme Leader. But its symbolism is important—the first night as married partners.”

“Well, you can still have that. But later. After my turn is over.” A sneer of disgust appears on Hux’s face. Ren asks, “Do you wish to inform him, or shall I?”

“I will, Supreme Leader. If I may.”

“Of course. Try not to frighten him unduly.” He dismisses the Grand Marshal, noting but not addressing his wrinkled brow. He can taste Hux’s fury, which is intoxicating. But he doesn’t wish to linger on the man’s concern for Mitaka.

The lieutenant will be fine.

As for Ren, he deserves this.

 

After dinner, Hux rattles his cutlery and clears his throat. “Dopheld.”

Mitaka looks up from his nearly finished slice of berry pie. “Yes?” There’s a long pause, during which he becomes increasingly antsy. “Armitage?”

“Pfassk. I have to tell you something.”

Dopheld pushes his plate to the centre of the table and waits. He keeps his eyes on Armitage’s face. It isn’t good.

“It’s about our wedding night.”

A sweat breaks out on his palms and under his arms. Whatever Hux is about to disclose to him, it can’t be easy for him to say. There must be some need Dopheld isn’t fulfilling, and his mind spins around the possibilities. Perhaps, just _perhaps_ Armitage would like to introduce the disparity in their ranks into the bedroom. Hux wants to dominate him, to abuse his authority. He wants to pretend Dopheld is unwilling. He wants to play the role of an instructor at Arkanis—

“Have you heard of the practise of First Night?”

Momentarily distracted by a question that brings him back to trivia night, Dopheld recites, “Yes. In some ancient cultures, a local ruler reserved the right to have intercourse with a vassal’s new spouse on their wedding night.” Then, as his thoughts collide, they coalesce into a new and utterly unexpected understanding. Unvocalised hopes become choking fears. “Oh, _Maker._ No.” This isn’t about him and Armitage at all.

“Apparently so.”

Blinking through a haze of tears not yet shed, Dopheld uselessly asks, “But why?”

“Because he’s a monster?” Armitage asks wearily. “Because he intends to make me suffer by causing you misery? Because he wants you but is unaccustomed to disappointment? Because he has no idea how to interact with people in a non-aggressive manner? Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” Staring down into his cup of tea, Mitaka hollowly announces, “Kylo Ren is going to rape me on my wedding night.” Then he gives a shaky smile and bursts into tears.


	2. Follow Through

Dopheld Mitaka, married man, stands in the entryway to the Supreme Leader’s quarters. He was summoned here a few hours into the reception. At least he got his first dance, a slice of cake, and suffered through toasts from both Opan and Rodinon. He had his wedding, but now—

“Congratulations, Dopheld,” Ren intones. “It was a lovely ceremony.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader. It was, thank you.” He continues staring at his own shoes. They’re terribly shiny—he can see his motions reflected in the polished tops. He is wearing his bespoke dress uniform, the one Hux insisted he be properly fitted for. _Damn the expense; you deserve to look your best._

“Come here, Lieutenant. And look at me.”

It’s not a request, but at least the man isn’t using his otherworldly powers to force obedience. Dopheld steps closer. His hands are trembling. To hide this, he clasps them behind his back at parade rest. Unfortunately it only makes him hyper-aware of the tremors now radiating up his arms.

“Breathe, Mitaka. I swear I’m not going to hurt you.”

His lips twitch as he recalls his first private interaction with the then knight. Being thrown across the room and choked, simply for delivering unwelcome news.

“I apologise for what happened after Jakku.”

“Thank you, Supreme Leader.” He takes a proper look at Ren, and is struck by how very tall he is, even without his helmet and boots. The Supreme Leader is wearing his state robes: black as always, but pristine and embellished with silver brocading.

“I trust that Hux has informed you that you’ll be spending the evening with me first?”

Mitaka nods.

“May I kiss you now?”

“May I decline, My Lord?” he answers with a frown.

“I suppose not. But I’d prefer you to be willing.” He reaches out and pulls Mitaka’s lower lip down with a thumb. “Kriff, you’re so pretty.”

“Thank you, Supreme Leader,” Mitaka recites miserably. Then Ren is swooping down, lips on his—and he’s startled by how soft they are. It feels like the end of a first date, not the prelude to political rape.

Even the thought of that word has him frozen in the centre of the room. The knight steadily backs him against the wall behind him. “At ease, Lieutenant. Try to think of this as an interaction between two willing parties.”

But that would entail infidelity on his part, and Dopheld has never cheated, nor would he cheat—certainly not on Armitage. “I know what this is, Supreme Leader. And I know you’re doing it to hurt Hux.” Silently: _Couldn_ _’t you just beat me?_

“Mitaka.” Ren pulls the lieutenant’s belt from his tunic and lets it clatter to the floor. “I’d be lying if I said bringing him down a notch or two wouldn’t be _very_ satisfying. But tonight I’m more concerned about my own satisfaction.” He unclasps Mitaka’s tunic and gently turns him around to pluck it from his shoulders. “I’ve thought about you a great deal lately. Imagining us alone together, like this.” He runs his palms over the outside of Mitaka’s arms, can’t help but massage them lightly. “You train.”

“I follow a standard regimen for officers, My Lord.” Nothing special. He wants Ren to be unimpressed by him, to send him away, to dismiss him in disappointment. He certainly won’t be offended if the Supreme Leader doesn’t want to violate him.

“Shh,” Ren whispers, a mockery of comfort. “Stop using my title. Call me Kylo tonight.”

Shaking his head, Dopheld demurs. “I… couldn’t possibly, sir.”

“You don’t call Hux ‘Grand Marshal’, do you?”

“No, My Lord. But he’s my… well, my husband now.” He frowns deeply at the reminder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”

_You shouldn’t have demanded my body on my wedding night._

“Lieutenant,” Ren warns him sharply.

“Wait. Oh. Oh, dear.” His entire body begins to shake as he realises that Ren will be able to overhear his inner thoughts during their time together. “I’m sorry. Please.”

“Please what?”

“I don’t know. I just…” He puts his face in his hands, knowing he’s seconds away from tears. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t, I swear. I can make this good for you,” Ren promises, brushing Mitaka’s cheek with his gloved knuckles. The lieutenant shies away as far as possible without breaking from his hold. “Please allow me to try.”

Dropping his hands, Dopheld forces himself to look into Ren’s eyes, and he doesn’t see cruelty or even anger. He sees want. “Very well,” he agrees. If there is such as thing as being raped with dignity, he would prefer it to crying and screaming. It’s going to happen either way; he might as well save his energy.

“How are you at sucking dick?” Ren asks.

Dopheld doesn’t know how to answer. There’s an intimacy with fellatio that doesn’t necessarily come with fucking. Back with Y—, he’d felt particularly betrayed when ordered onto his knees instead of simply bending forward. Putting your face in someone’s crotch, breathing against his skin, looking up for his reaction—all of it feels so undeniably _close_. Simply put, he doesn’t want that with Ren.

“You’re good at it, aren’t you, Mitaka? You’re a talented cocksucker.”

The lieutenant refuses to raise his flushed face to the knight’s. If he doesn’t meet the man’s gaze, if he doesn’t speak, perhaps—

A swish of cloth, the rustle of robes moving and being removed. Then: “Look at me.”

He looks. He looks and his heart beats in his ears. Mitaka lowers his gaze from Ren’s barechested form. “Oh, my,” he murmurs to the floor. Ren is toned in a way that the lieutenant’s partners have never been: the knight is textbook muscular.

“Do you like what you see, Mitaka?”

He blinks, stunned by the teasing question. “Um.” Then he manages, “You’re very fit.” He shouldn’t be surprised, as Ren is first and foremost a fighter. He shouldn’t be surprised, and he certainly shouldn’t be getting hard.

Ren flashes a smile. “Why don’t you get on your knees for me?” He eases his leggings down and Dopheld gets his first look at Ren’s cock. It’s impressive, to say the least, easily nine inches already and not even fully hard. The knight doesn’t wax, but he must keep himself trimmed—thank the Maker, Dopheld won’t be stuffing his mouth with unkempt pubes.

Fortunately instinct takes over. Large as it is, it’s just a dick, and mercifully he can’t see Ren’s face. Could belong to anyone. Well, not to Hux. But still.

Ren gasps and his fingers claw at Dopheld’s shoulders. “Well, well, Mitaka. You’ve done this a good deal, haven’t you?”

He nods. So many boys back at Arkanis. (And one man, but he doesn’t think about that. Tonight is difficult enough as it is.)

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” He’s panting. “Would you mind if I went deeper?”

Of course he’d mind. Instead of protesting, he shrugs. Ren puts a hand on the back of his head and steps closer, so that he’s directly over the kneeling lieutenant. He thrusts downward, filling Dopheld’s throat. This isn’t the sort of thing Mitaka likes—he prefers maintaining access to oxygen at all times.

But Ren groans happily. “Good boy,” he praises.

Mitaka thinks of Hux, yearns for a later hour when he’ll be able to lie in his husband’s arms and cry about this moment and those to come.

Eventually Ren has his fill of Dopheld’s mouth and stands back. “Strip the rest of the way. I want to see what I’ll be enjoying.”

 _My arse_ , Dopheld thinks sullenly. _You mean my arse._

“Of course I do,” Ren answers with a knowing smile.

Mitaka shudders.

“It’ll be fun that I can see into your mind. I’ll be able to tell what you want.”

Chest tightening, throat constricting, Dopheld shakes his head. _I don_ _’t want this, I don’t want this, I—_

“Lieutenant,” Ren barks out sharply, and Dopheld jolts and straightens his back. “Breathe.”

The advice is patronising and obnoxious, but that doesn’t change the fact that once Dopheld has taken in a few shaky breaths, he feels better.

“Lie down on the bed. I want to get my fingers in you. To open you up.”

Moving as if automated, Mitaka lies down and stares at his empty hands. He wishes he knew how to dissociate his mind from his body. It used to happen sometimes, back with Y—, but he’s unaware of how to purposefully trigger it.

“Spread your legs for me. I need to see your asshole.” A groan follows. “Fuck, it’s so pink and tight. When was the last time you were fucked?” Although Dopheld doesn’t answer him aloud, he doesn’t need to. It was four nights ago—he and Hux haven’t had sex since before the evening the lieutenant was informed of this plan. Ren licks his fingertips and places one against the entrance. “This is going to take some prep. Remember to breathe deeply.”

As if Mitaka’s never taken a dick before. He’s had _plenty_ of them. He knows what to do; it doesn’t make this any easier. At least Ren is adept with his fingers, has obviously spent time learning to prepare men to take him. Mitaka doesn’t look back during the proceedings, so he has no warning when Ren withdraws his hand and replaces it with his mouth. Unfortunately this means he can’t hold back the breathy moan that follows. It’s shameful. He shouldn’t enjoy any of this. It shouldn’t matter that a well-timed rimjob never fails to bring him apart.

Ren hums against him before inserting his tongue. Mitaka squirms like a whore. The Supreme Leader shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be trying to give him pleasure, shouldn’t be dragging this out any longer than necessary. “Fuck, you taste so good. I could do this for an hour.”

“Please, sir. Don’t… Just get on with it, My Lord.”

“Think you’re ready for me?”

Perhaps physically, certainly not mentally. But he’ll never be prepared mentally. “Yes, sir.” If the Supreme Leader suspects or recognises the half-lie, he refrains from commenting on it.

Ren pulls Mitaka’s legs further apart, spreads his cheeks, and slaps the head of his cock against his pucker. “Mm. I’m going to split you open. Look at how small you are, compared to me.” A splat of lubricant hits him, shockingly cold but not strictly unpleasant. “Oh, you’re twitching.” Ren uses his thumb to spread the slick around and a bit inside. Then Mitaka focuses on his own breaths while he listens to Ren apply the lube to himself, the wet sound of his hand pumping along that ridiculous length.

Ren’s weight shifting, the mattress dipping. The blunt pressure, hot and insistent against his rim. The stuttering slide inside, the burn of his inner walls protesting before submitting.

“There, I’m all in, sweetheart.” Ren’s breath heavy on the back of his neck, a kiss below his right earlobe. “I haven’t been in anyone this tight in years. Possibly because I’ve mostly had to make do with hookers. Oh, sorry—don’t worry, I’m clean.” He pets Dopheld’s head as he tilts slowly back and forth. “Maker, Hux is so _lucky_ to have you whenever he wants. If I had regular access to an ass like this, I’d never get anything done.” He’s driving harder now, seemingly unconcerned by the gasps of discomfort from the man under him. “I’d chain you to this bed. Keep you plugged. See how many times I could go in a day. Three or four, I imagine.”

It’s possible that the noise Dopheld makes next could be mistaken as a moan. But it’s just the sound of the breath being pummeled out of his lungs. He swears there’s nothing more to this. It’s rape—and therefore not at all enjoyable.

“Do you get fucked like this often?” Added as clarification, “Like a little bitch?”

He shakes his head. _No._ Although Hux usually tops, the Grand Marshal makes love to him. Mitaka always feels valued. Now he just feels like a convenient hole being used for vengeance.

“Why couldn’t _I_ be the one to keep you? Why does he have all the luck?”

_Maybe it’s your personality. Your poor leadership and bloody tantrums._

“I can _hear_ you, you know.”

“I’m sorry, sir!” he cries. “Please forgive me!” Suddenly the only thing he cares about is avoiding being choked with the Force again. He doubts he could cope with that terror on top of the… penetration. Surely his mind would shut down entirely. But that might be better than this half-awareness, the floating on a sea of nearly-panic, nearly-acceptance. It no longer hurts. His body has acclimated, but his mind is unsure of itself.

“Shh, darling, I know this must be emotional for you. But just let me have what I want tonight. Then you can go back to your life as though nothing happened.”

Sobbing, he grabs the pillow and shoves his face into it to stifle the sounds of his weakness.

 _Hux is so lucky,_ he repeats to himself foolishly. _Hux is so lucky. He can have me whenever he wants, he doesn_ _’t have to make an appointment._

Ren continues to plough into him through all this, but then changes his angle slightly and—

Bright pleasure blooms throughout his core. Something snaps in his mind and Mitaka surrenders to the sensation. He does in fact moan, loudly and throatily. “Oh. _Oh_.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s… good. Fuck, it’s actually good.” What the hell is he saying? What’s wrong with him? He needs to get home, take a shower, and crawl into his own bed with his brand-new spouse, Armitage Hux, the man he chose.

“I’m so glad, Dopheld. You deserve it.” Kissing the back of the lieutenant’s neck, he continues babbling praise. “Mm, what a sight. Your gorgeous back, slender waist, this pert little ass…” He groans. “Actually, that gives me an idea. Would you like to know how good you feel?”

“What d’you mean?” Mitaka asks, voice thick with the effort of forming distinct sounds.

“I’m going to share something with you.”

The low light reflecting off the soft bumps along his spine. The sweat at the base of his neck. The dimples on his pelvis. Kylo moves and it’s heaven. Dopheld is nearly painfully tight, his passage only allowing Ren to move because it has no other option. Maker, the very heat of him has the knight halfway mad. He wants equally to worship and destroy him. Fuck him within an inch of his sanity, then bring him off perfectly.

Gasping at the revelation, Dopheld looks over his shoulder to meet Ren’s burning gaze. “You mean that, Lord Ren?”

“All of it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me like some trashy slut you picked up in a bar.”

“Oh,” Ren says, his smile turning vicious. “You’re into that sort of thing?”

“Not usually, but you just got me in the mood for it with that trick.”

“Gods, you’re such a good boy.” He places his hand over the back of Dopheld’s neck. “Mm, perfect. What a lovely little slut for me.”

“Thank you, sir.” He had long wanted to use honourifics with Hux in bed and receive insults in turn, but very early on the general made it clear he wasn’t interested at all. Such things would be dangerous, considering the gap in their ranks—although that was precisely why Dopheld had been keen. “Please fuck me harder, Supreme Leader!”

“Give me _everything_ ,” Ren demands.

“It’s yours,” Dopheld swears to another man on his wedding night. “It’s all yours.”

 

“Stay for a bit, if you’d like,” Ren murmurs as he kisses the side of Dopheld’s face. His cock has slipped out and dribbled come and lube over Dopheld’s cheeks.

“Could I use your fresher?” He’s filthy and needs to destroy the evidence. He can’t go back home smelling of bleach, broadcasting to Armitage exactly what had been done. _Good evening, Husband. Lord Ren filled my arse: care to follow?_

“Of course. But first—” He turns the lieutenant onto his stomach and spreads his cheeks. “Such a mess. You’re leaking my come everywhere.” He leans down and begins lapping at it.

Dopheld squirms in embarrassment nearing horror. “Don’t! Stars, that’s disgusting!”

“Why? It’s my own load on your skin.”

“But it’s—it’s been in my arse!” Rimming is one thing, but this—

“Mm,” Ren agrees, supremely unconcerned. “Yes, I did give it to you deep, didn’t I?” He swirls the tip around Dopheld’s pucker, slips it inside, and then sucks. Loudly, obscenely.

“No, stop— _sir._ Oh.” It certainly doesn’t feel bad, just wrong. Accepting that Ren will likely never understand his revulsion, Dopheld puts up with the man’s tongue until he’s able to dart to the fresher. Now, of course, there’s less left to clean up, but he uses a washcloth to do what he can. Turning the tap on, he rinses his mouth out—he doesn’t want Armitage to taste Ren on his lips.

Then he stands in the doorway, surveying the Supreme Leader lounging on his bed. “Run along home,” Ren purrs. “Go back to your husband and don’t breathe a word about what a good boy you were for me.”

Mitaka stiffens.

“That’s right. Keep it a secret, how you acted the whore for your Supreme Leader. I may have use for you again in the future.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

 

Stumbling inside the door, Mitaka leans back against the hallway wall and lets out a long breath.

“How are you holding up?” Hux asks in a hoarse whisper, standing up from the couch and walking up to him. About a metre away he holds his distance, obviously unsure of how close Dopheld needs him to be. He must have been waiting this whole time. Glancing at the nearest chrono, Dopheld notes that his encounter with Ren lasted just over two hours.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It—it wasn’t entirely awful. He didn’t hurt me.”

“That’s something. Would you like, I don’t know, a glass of water perhaps?” The redhead is clearly out of his element but desperate to put Dopheld at ease, to give him some meagre comfort.

“Yes, please.” While Armitage is in the kitchenette, Dopheld slumps onto the floor, his back propped up by the wall. He accepts the glass and avoids his husband’s solicitous gaze. He’s contaminated now, what with Ren’s come still trickling out of his arse. Worse than that, he has betrayed Armitage with the things he’d said.

_—Fuck me harder, Supreme Leader!_

_—My body is all yours._

Armitage sits cross-legged on the floor in front of him and Dopheld suddenly needs to prove that his words to Ren had only been a survival mechanism. Finally looking up, he says, “Hey. Do you… um, want something?”

“Are you serious?” Armitage asks softly, brushing loose hair off of Dopheld’s forehead.

“Yes. It’s still our wedding night. It was supposed to be important. Special.”

“But.”

“Still. Unless you don’t want me, now that he’s had me.”

Sharply, his husband orders, “Don’t say that. You know I wouldn’t think that way.”

“A blowjob at least, then?”

Sighing heavily, Armitage allows, “If you’d like.”

 

Armitage wants to ask precisely what Ren demanded and took from his husband, but Dopheld appears to be in mild shock and Hux doesn’t want to push it. He lets Dopheld take him by the hand and lead him to the bedroom. He’ll let Dopheld walk him through this, step by step.

He wants to know if Dopheld was able to clean up properly or if Ren’s spend is still inside him. Because he can’t picture the impetuous Supreme Leader using a barrier. Stomach twisting at the thought, he suggests, “Would you want to take a hot shower first?”

Dopheld nods. “Yes,” he breathes in relief. “Join me, though?”

Under the overhead stream of water, Hux lathers up Dopheld’s skin. His fingertips dally over each cherished mole. Then his breath catches a split second before he understands why.

Dopheld’s hips are marked with a pattern of small bruises. Fresh and reddened, they show that Ren must have taken him from

“Armitage?” Dopheld asks, voice shaky.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Believe. Kriff, what he… Maker.” He leans back against the wall of the fresher unit for support. Smacking a wet fist against the tile, he spits, “That _monster!_ ”

“It’ll be alright,” Dopheld assures, sounding like he believes it.

Listening to Dopheld comfort _him_ , Hux begins to cry in earnest. “I’m so sorry. If I were a better man, I’d have found a way to prevent this.”

Toweled off and back in their bedroom, Armitage turns down the blowjob—he finds he hasn’t the stomach for anything sexual. With an arm slung over Dopheld throughout the night, he doesn’t get much sleep. At least Phel is exhausted and safe for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the sexual activities in this chapter are non-consensual, although they may appear otherwise.  
> Content notes: First and foremost, rape as scheduled - Non-con mind-reading - Forced deep-throating - Rimming - Anal fingering - Unsafe sex/barebacking - Insulting dirty talk - Felching - Dopheld offers to perform a sex act for Armitage after the rape out of shame and obligation (but Armitage declines)


	3. Contagion

As both lieutenant and general return to work, their days on the _Finalizer_ blend together into a familiar montage: reports, briefings, strategising sessions. Analysis and discussion of reconnaissance, sorties, and supply lines. The Supreme Leader makes no personal appearances on the bridge or in conference rooms; his name is only spoken as the author of memoranda or the issuer of orders. It’s easy for Dopheld to separate the concept of “Supreme Leader” from “Kylo Ren.” The first is a nebulous concept, a commander-in-chief to be obeyed. The second… the second he doesn’t think about until he is off the clock and home.

It’s their fifth evening as a married couple, and now they are both off the clock and home, sitting beside one another on the couch. Dopheld has his tablet out and is scrolling through the day’s newsfeed. Armitage is reading the proof of a torpedo systems manual and has an arm crooked around Dopheld’s shoulder, two fingertips lightly brushing against his husband’s collarbone, and Dopheld feels it’s time they had sex again.

He knows Armitage has been jerking off alone in the shower—he’d walked in yesterday morning and they’d both pretended he hadn’t noticed. Dopheld doesn’t want that sort of solitary pleasure to become a habit, not when he’s around and more than willing to help out. So, he turns his head to whisper into Armitage’s ear, making sure his breath blows directly against the sensitive skin. “Fuck me tonight.”

Setting the document aside and giving him a cautious smile, Armitage simply asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Nodding, Armitage takes hold of both his hands and adds, “If it turns out you aren’t ready, let me know and we can stop at any time.”

Feeling a brief pang of annoyance at this, Dopheld shoves it away. Armitage is only saying what he ought to, reminding Dopheld that he always has a choice with him. Armitage is being a gentleman, not a brute. To distract himself from his unworthy reaction, Dopheld leans in and kisses Armitage on the lips.

Things proceed in silence, the both of them expressing the momentousness of this act without words. Because tonight is their first night. Ren’s actions postponed but did not prevent it.

Dopheld sighs quietly on the bed as Armitage caresses him with his slender fingers, glancing back over his shoulder with a smile. Soon enough, he nods— _I_ _’m ready_ —and Armitage joins him on the bed. Dopheld hands him the bottle of lubricant. Armitage kisses him deeply.

Rising onto his hands and knees, Dopheld dips his back in invitation. Armitage kneels behind him and places his hands on Dopheld’s hips, then abruptly lifts them up.

“What’s wrong?” Dopheld asks, looking behind him for a clue.

“There are…” Armitage’s fingertips twitch, indicating Dopheld’s skin. “You still have bruises.”

“Oh. I don’t mind. It doesn’t hurt any more.”

Letting out an indecipherable puff of air, Hux returns his hands to their former position. His cock brushes against Dopheld’s cleft and the lieutenant wriggles back a bit. “You do want this?” Armitage asks again, ever patient.

“Yes,” Dopheld assures him. “I do.”

“Just—promise you’ll inform me if I need to stop.”

“I will. But please: go ahead and fuck me already.”

“I—” Armitage swallows loudly enough for Dopheld to hear the gulp. “I want to make love.”

“Oh,” Dopheld whispers, accepting that this night is going to be emotional and that it’s only fitting—this isn’t just a fuck, it’s their first night. “I want that, too.”

Hux leans across Dopheld’s back in order to turn his head and kiss him lightly. “Because you’re my husband now.”

Dopheld answers, “Show me. Show me how much you care.” _Show me you respect me. Convince me I’m not just some slutty bitch you share with the Supreme Leader._

Nodding solemnly, Armitage sits back on his heels. “I don’t want to remind you of what happened, so I intend to go slowly. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“No, I haven’t anywhere else to be until my shift tomorrow. Unless you were thinking of taking eight hours.”

Laughing at that as he opens the lubricant again, this time to coat his fingers, Armitage answers, “Not quite that long, no. Also, perhaps I should tell you what I’m about to do before I do it, to avoid any surprises and give you the opportunity to clearly consent.”

Dopheld turns his head as his jaw drops. “Wow,” he concludes. “That’s… Yes, that would be good.” He should thank Armitage, but as it is, he’s having difficulty voicing his feelings without tearing up.

From here on, Armitage narrates his actions. “I’d like to put my index finger in you.”

“Yes,” Dopheld hisses. “Please do.” It slides it easily.

“Darling,” Hux murmurs. “You’re so very warm.”

“Hell,” Dopheld curses happily. “Give me another.”

He does. “You’re so—”

 _Easy_ , Dopheld fills in.

But Armitage continues right on speaking kindly, declaring, “Giving.” He starts spreading his fingers apart. “I’m going to stretch you out, open up your sweet arse for me.”

_I recently took much more with about this level of preparation. You can go on and—_

“Phel, I want to be inside you. Do you want—”

“Yes, of course, Armitage. Please, come on and …” He’s unsure of the right word to use. _Fuck_ is too vulgar right now, _have_ and _take_ too old-fashioned (and possessive as well). He picks up on his husband’s phrasing and says, “Make love to me, Tidge.” He doesn’t think he has ever phrased a request for sex this way, but in his defence, he had never been in love before Hux.

“Soon, darling. Just, give me a moment.” Pulling his fingers out, Armitage squeezes a generous drop of lubricant onto one tip and smears it over Dopheld’s rim. He then slicks up his cock, grips the base, and tilts it to hit home. But the tip just rests there, twitching and waiting. “Tell me, Dopheld,” he starts, his voice beginning to show strain, evidence of the near-panic that comes with the promise of immense pleasure. “Tell me you want this,” Armitage insists.

“I do. I want it, I want _you_ , you’re the only one for me. Armitage. My husband.”

With a keening sound, Hux drives forward, burying his cock all the way to the hilt in a single smooth motion.

“Oh, _kriff!_ ” Dopheld shouts, arching off the bed, fingers and toes curling into the bedsheets. “Yes!”

“You feel so good, darling, you feel like _home_.”

Dopheld can feel Armitage’s heartbeat inside him, and can scarcely believe he’d enjoyed congress with anyone else. _(You should really tell him, you should come clean.)_  But there’s hardly anything to confess, only a few regrettable words.

Besides, now is not the time.

Rather than mention Ren, he wraps his arms around Hux’s neck and whispers, “I love you, I love you so much.”

For his part, Armitage seems happy to follow Dopheld’s lead. He tips his husband off before every change, giving Dopheld ample time to agree or decline. _(_ _“I’d like to speed up. Can I hold your waist? May I kiss you?”)_ And Dopheld knows why he is doing it. It’s because Armitage suspects he has been cracked by his experience, that he is in danger of breaking apart if pressure is applied to the seam. And perhaps he is, but he doesn’t feel it.

What he does feel is impatient. Far from wanting Armitage to stop, Dopheld wants _more_.

Suddenly frustrated that Hux isn’t going harder, Dopheld remembers having the air pounded out of him recently. Then he recalls the circumstances. A trapdoor in his mind gives way, and he falls through to a deep level of shame.

 _Fuck_. He’s thinking of Ren. He pushes the memory away, looks back at his husband. Maker, Armitage is always so gorgeous like this, his face displaying happy concentration.

Dopheld blinks and sees Ren behind him, his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck but coming loose during the exertion of rutting into Dopheld’s body. His lips part and he speaks—filthy, degrading things.

_I’m going to split you open, you little bitch. Going to use and ruin you. Fill you up like a rubbish bin. Because that’s all you’re good for._

Looking toward the headboard, he grasps his cock and whimpers. Realises he is actively fantasising about the time he’d spent with Ren. While Hux is inside him. His stomach lurches but he is still panting. “Maker,” he says aloud. Inside his mind, he adds, _Take what you need from me, sir._

Armitage whispers something perfectly sweet like, “Phel, my husband, I love you so dearly—”

In another—lower, rougher—voice, Dopheld hears, _You’d better worship me._

He feels like a monster. Sure, Ren began it by taking Dopheld and giving him a taste of something very different. But it’s rubbing off on him and here he is thinking this way, in terms of domination and degradation.

It’s contagious.

Vaguely he’s aware that Armitage is approaching orgasm and asking permission to finish inside him. Moaning inarticulately, Dopheld nods. Once he’s done, Armitage pulls out and turns Dopheld onto his back, reaches between them to assist, but Dopheld is already well on his way. Closing his eyes and biting down on his lower lip, Dopheld gives himself a few short tugs and comes onto his stomach.

When Armitage rolls off the mattress and heads to the refresher for a towel, Dopheld sits up and stares blankly at the far wall.

_What the fuck is wrong with you?_

He hears the faucet run: his fia—no, his husband is washing his hands, perhaps rinsing off his face and his dick. Cleaning Dopheld off of him.

_What the holy fuck—_

Dopheld glances down at his stomach, at the smeared ejaculate across his treasure trail, and reminds himself that he came thinking of Ren. No, worse than that: he’d gotten off on the memory of being raped.

If this is some sort of coping mechanism, he’d rather not cope.

Armitage returns to the room, to the bed. Lying apart, they look at each other and breathe. Eventually, Armitage darts his hand out and grasps hold of Dopheld’s. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe,” he whispers.

“There’s nothing you could have done.” This assurance is the least Dopheld can offer.

 

 

At 1730 the next day, Armitage heads to Docking Bay Cresh to supervise the _Finalizer_ ’s TIE squadron drills. This sort of thing usually takes ninety minutes, and Dopheld settles in on the couch in their quarters. He tries to distract himself with reading, but nothing holds his attention. Nothing, that is, but the memory of Kylo Ren fucking him.

After twenty-odd minutes, he gives in and slides a hand under the waistband of his pyjama pants. Finding his cock half-erect, he gives it a rough squeeze and shakes his head at his weakness.

_—Good evening, Dopheld._

Startled, Dopheld jolts upright against the back of the sofa. Ren’s voice still reverberating in his mind, he speaks aloud. “Um. Ah. S-supreme Leader?”

_—I can tell you’re thinking of me._

Letting out a heavy sigh, Dopheld confesses, “Yes.”

_—And you’re—Oh._

“Yes, sir.” His hand is still in his pants, as though he has been frozen in surprise.

_—Fuck, that’s hot. May I watch?_

Narrowing his eyes, Dopheld considers this. Then he shrugs. “Why not? You’ve already had me.”

_—Don’t play the victim with me. You’re the one who was screaming for me to take everything you had._

“I’ll admit, it eventually felt halfway decent,” Dopheld allows, trying his hand at teasing the Supreme Leader as he starts wanking in earnest. “You seemed to know what you were doing.”

_—And you, Dopheld, you felt like sin itself._

No one has ever spoken to him like this; it goes directly to his balls. “Did I, sir?”

_—Yes. I’d do anything to have you again. I swear it would be easier the next time. I’d focus on making you feel good._

“That night, when you called me names—”

_—Yes?_

“It was so bloody hot. And those huge hands of yours, holding me like I was your possession…” Dopheld shudders and has to stall the movement of his hand to prevent an early ejaculation.

_—You could come back, you know. I’m just one level up. Stop by and I’ll spend all night wrecking you, sweetheart._

“Mm. Would you let me ride you this time?”

_—Oh, yes. Also, there’s something I think you ought to know._

“What’s that, Lord Ren?”

_—With my powers, I can go more than once in a row._

“Maker, fuck, please,” Dopheld babbles.

_—So for Round One, you can ride me. And Round Two will be me holding your delicate body against the mattress and fucking you into it._

“How hard, My Lord?”

_—Enough to take your breath away, Dopheld. Enough to make you swear you belong to me. Enough to beg for a third go._

“Oh, hell. I’ll be so sore, I won’t be able to walk the next day.”

_—We’ll do it the night before you have a day off._

“Good. Then you can bugger me with that enormous dick all night.”

_—Will you scream for me again? The way you did when you came, squirming around on my cock?_

“It’s highly likely, sir.”

_—Would you let me listen now? Are you close?_

“I’m—I’m so fucking close. May I come? Give me permission and you can do what you want.”

Laughter. _Soon, Mitaka. But not yet._

Dopheld whimpers at the denial, and Ren reaches further into the bedroom for a better view. Mitaka is lying sprawled across the couch, shirtless and with his pyjama pants rucked down to his ankles. His pale fingers are wrapped around the shaft of his cock, which is bright pink. Pre-come has dribbled onto his treasure trail, and Kylo aches to lick it up before forcing his tongue between Dopheld’s lips.

But even more entrancing than these sights are the noises emanating from those reddened lips: panted whines and bitten-back moans. Kylo suspects the man has no clue how beautiful he looks just now. Glancing down at the tent in his leggings, Kylo pulls them off and twists the Force into tendrils of cool energy, snakes them around his throbbing cock.

_—You can be as loud as you want, Mitaka. No one is listening but me._

“Fuck! Sir! I’m so close, so bloody close—” His chest rises and falls as he gasps for air.

All Kylo wants to do is straddle his waist and jerk off onto his face while the lieutenant finishes himself off. _Tell me what you want,_ he demands, making the Force pleasure him hands-free.

“Sir, I—I want you to fuck me again. To be deep inside me. You reach so fucking deep. I want you to treat me like you own me, sir, I’ll obey you. Just—just let me try to be good for you.”

Kylo has no doubts that Mitaka would succeed. _Bring your knees to your chest. Show me that hole. Yes, baby, that’s it. So tight and pink. How loudly would you scream if I took you without bothering to stretch you out first?_

“Maker,” Dopheld moans wantonly. “I don’t even care, sir. Anything you want.”

 _—Mm. Good boy. No, I’ll want to get you ready with my mouth and tongue. I hope you like being rimmed, darling, because I want to taste that little pucker of yours._ He recalls the way the lieutenant had squirmed, pretending not to enjoy the attention while his body twitched in response.

Mitaka blabbers in delight, “Yes, sir, I love it, please do that for me, I’ll be such a fucking whore if you eat my arse…” He lets his legs fall back to the cushions, parting them to give Kylo an excellent view of his leaking cock tapping against his lower belly.

_—You’re already a fucking whore. But that’s why I enjoy you. Go ahead and resume jacking off. Show me how hard you are. Yes, like a rock. And all for me. That’s how much you loved being violated._

“Yes! Sir! Maker, I beg you, rape me again!”

 _—I’ll damn well ruin you, Mitaka._ Listening to the lieutenant whine desperately, he finally grants his approval. _You may come now. But tell me who owns you, Dopheld._

“You do, sir! You own me, I’m yours, you can take what you want from me and I will _gladly_ give it!”

 _—Perfect,_ Kylo declares proudly, watching as Mitaka’s entire body seizes in a rictus of pleasure and his release spurts between his fingers, splattering across his chest and stomach. This whole time Kylo has been pleasuring himself telepathically, and he allows himself release as well. “You’re such a good boy, Dopheld,” he groans, speaking the words aloud as he sends them directly into Mitaka’s mind.

Dopheld blinks, stunned. Ren has withdrawn, leaving him with the sticky mess of his ejaculate and a yawning sense of emptiness in his chest.

Something is terribly wrong with him.

At the very least he needs to clean himself off. Rolling off the couch, he stands carefully and pads to the fresher. Glancing at himself in the mirror, it occurs to him that he looks like a cam-boy after a show, with his rumpled hair, reddened cheeks, and stripes of come across his chest, dripping into his navel.

It’s bad enough that he’d jerked off thinking of Ren. Still worse that the Supreme Leader had joined him, albeit telepathically. Now Ren has clear confirmation that Dopheld wants a repeat.

Feeling a headache building behind his eye sockets, Dopheld steps into the sonic, wishing he could walk half so easily out of this predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're heading well into Dead Dove territory here.  
> Content notes: Consensual marital sex - Mention of masturbation - Hux has been jerking off alone because he doesn't want Mitaka to feel pressured into sex - Fantasising about a previous rape during consensual sex - Guilt and shame - Lack of full communication between partners - Dubcon voyeurism of a masturbatory act - Mutual masturbation via telepathy - Shared fantasy about sexual assault - Even more shame


End file.
